


A Slightly Scottish Surprise

by Moonlitdark



Series: A Very Highland Fling [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kilts, M/M, PWP, a teeny wee bit of angst, kilt kink, misuse of a sporran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: Harry was becoming increasingly aware that it had been one thing to allow his arch-rival to sit on his cock unannounced, but quite another to go through with a premeditated plan to take Malfoy to his flat for sex.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: A Very Highland Fling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083962
Kudos: 65





	A Slightly Scottish Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.
> 
> Sequel to A Very Highland Fling. This follows on from exactly where that story ended.

Harry slumped back on the bench, trying to persuade himself to choose the least insane plan of action. His mind was swimming in an intense inner turmoil. Although he was dimly aware that the most sensible route to take would probably be to slink off home and pretend that he hadn’t just let his former arch-rival use him like a funfair ride, Harry wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted to do. _Yes_ , he told himself, considering recent events it would undoubtedly be much wiser to go home and not return to the reception, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself. 

Visions of blond hair and cream and blue tartan were clouding his vision. Harry assured himself that Malfoy didn’t want to see him again, after all hadn’t Malfoy told him from the start that he didn’t intend to stick around? Malfoy had made his intentions clear and had carried them out flawlessly. But Harry agonised over whether or not Malfoy had meant him to follow. What if he _had_ , and instead of doing so, Harry was still sitting here in indecisive procrastination. 

Coming to a possibly questionable decision, Harry slowly rose from the bench. Tucking his shirt back into his trousers, a very large stain on the front of his shirt caught his attention. Realising that it didn’t give off the best impression; Harry spelled the stain away and straightened his clothing to hopefully appear at least slightly presentable. He ran shaky fingers through his hair and wobbled unsteadily towards the hall. 

Standing outside the building, Harry sucked in so many deep, cleansing breaths to steady himself that all he succeeded in doing was making himself dizzy with an overdose of oxygen. Once he had stopped swaying, he squared his shoulders the best he could and stepped inside. 

Harry didn’t have to search long before he found who he was looking for. Malfoy was standing beside a handsome dark-haired man at the edge of the hall. No, Harry corrected himself; Malfoy was _draped_ over a handsome, dark-haired man. The faint hope that he had been harbouring shattered into tiny pieces.

Attempting to rearrange his expression into something which didn’t resemble utter devastation, Harry turned away. 

He had almost reached the promised haven of the doorway when he heard a horrifyingly familiar voice drawl from behind him.

"Not leaving already are you, Potter?"

Another deep breath later, Harry forced himself to turn around, although he didn’t feel nearly confident enough.

Harry attempted to muster up some confidence as he met the grey eyes. "Yes. I’m going home." 

Malfoy smiled almost amiably. "Care for some company?" 

As he tried to ignore the hopeful pounding in his heart that the question had provoked, Harry hissed out a reply. "No, thanks. Looks like you're busy."

"With what? I think this already tedious occasion is rapidly deteriorating."

"Then maybe you should just bugger off home as well." 

The self-assured smugness crept back into place. "But I think there might be more fun to be had."

"I’m sure that bloke you were hanging over is up for some _fun_ , Malfoy." Harry regretted the statement immediately it left his lips, aware of how resentful it had sounded.

Malfoy frowned. "What bloke?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, _him_. I don’t think so, considering he’s a very happily married man. To a _woman_ , I believe."

"Do you always drape yourself over married men?" Harry could feel his hackles prickling around him dangerously.

"Not always," Malfoy shrugged. "I was just having a bit of flirtatious fun."

"Well, good luck with that. Let me know how it goes." 

Malfoy look stunned. "Potter! I do believe you're jealous."

"I don’t give enough of a _shit_ about you to be jealous," Harry hissed venomously.

Malfoy closed the short gap between them and curled his right arm around Harry’s shoulder, grinning. "Good. Let’s go."

Harry tried to shunt the arm off him, but it only squeezed tighter. "I’m not going _anywhere_ with you!"

"Oh, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "Are we back to denial? Why don’t you just admit that you’d like another shag and we’ll go back to your place?"

"I _don’t_ want another shag!" He wriggled again, but the arm clung on.

"Then why did you come back in here?"

"It’s only polite to say goodbye to the hosts, Malfoy. You should know that." Velvety lips brushed against Harry’s cheek, effectively ceasing all his attempts to struggle.

"I’d never have guessed you were in possession of such good manners." The softly spoken words breathed against his skin sent tremors through Harry’s body.

Annoyed at himself for his own stupidity, Harry jerked his head away. "Piss off."

"Harry, all I’m offering you is a bit of pleasurable entertainment. I don’t see the harm in allowing yourself that little luxury."

Unfortunately, neither did the part of Harry’s brain that had forced him to re-enter the hall. Harry stood silent for a long moment and suddenly came to the terrifying realisation that he was about to take this man home with him.

"Okay," Harry whispered, allowing himself to be steered out of the hall.

***

The strong arm was still securely wrapped around him as they walked together along the path leading from the building, Malfoy’s hip bumping Harry’s suggestively on each step. The kilt swept along Harry’s legs as Malfoy strode and it was quickly regaining the interest of Harry’s cock.

"So, what adorable little fantasies do you cherish within that impenetrable mind of yours?"

"None."

"Of course," Malfoy sniggered. "Pure little Potter wouldn’t deem to consider any such illicit thoughts."

"Shut up." Harry tried to relax and give in to his arousal, but now that he was actually leaving with Malfoy, he still couldn’t seem to let go of all the years of hate and distrust he had cultivated towards him. He was becoming increasingly aware that it had been one thing to allow his arch-rival to sit on his cock unannounced, but quite another to go through with a premeditated plan to take Malfoy to his flat for sex.

A weary sigh came from beside Harry. "Can’t we just try and get along for once?"

"You want to be friends now, Malfoy?"

"Not necessarily," Malfoy shrugged. "I simply thought that a bit of friendly conversation might loosen you up."

"Loosen me up?"

"Well, you seem a bit tense. Let me help you relax."

With that, Malfoy stopped walking and pulled Harry around to face him. Harry had barely settled into the change of position when soft lips met his. As their tongues met and eager hands gripped his buttocks, Harry’s panic was increasing at a far greater rate than his desire.

Harry was finding it very difficult not only to believe that the man he despised was still propositioning him, but also that he had accepted the advances. 

Making a rapid, panicked decision which overrode all previous longings, Harry wrenched away from the powerful grasp and stepped back.

"I… think that this is a mistake," he muttered faintly.

Malfoy’s eyes flashed for a split second with something that Harry couldn’t quite decipher. "Say again, Potter?"

"I think I’ve made a mistake. I don’t think you should come home with me."

"And why not?" Malfoy’s low voice had an odd edge to it. "Did you consider it amusing to string me along?"

"No! I just… it was great, what we did, but I think we should just leave it there."

The face looking back at Harry wore an eerily blank expression.

"Your loss, Potter," Malfoy stated flatly and twirled away in a flutter of tartan, leaving a slightly confused Harry in his wake.

As Harry watched him go, his mind was again in complete chaos. He _wanted_ this. He’d wanted it so badly that he’d gone back to get it. So, Harry was struggling to understand why after _getting_ what he wanted, he had just thrown it away. A huge component of Harry wanted to run after the man striding away from him, but deep-seated distrust kept him rooted to the spot.

***

Harry’s journey home was filled with a mixture of regret and bubbling nausea. Not feeling up to apparating for a while, instead he dragged his feet along, amazed at the foolishness of his actions. After he had been roaming for a few hours, rain began to pour, smacking heavily against the ground.

Deciding that adding pneumonia to the list of ludicrous things which he had achieved that day wouldn’t really help, Harry apparated to the door of his apartment with a despondent pop.

He had curled his fingers around the doorknob before he realised that there was something unusual about it. A fluffy white sporran hung on a chain from the brass orb. Harry froze, abruptly even more uncertain of what the hell was going on in his life today. Another deep breathing induced oxygen rush later, he lifted the sporran from where it hung, turned the knob and pushed the door open. 

Everything in his hallway looked normal, so he nervously entered his flat. Peering around the doorway to his living room, he cringed as he saw the beautiful, pleated kilt neatly folded over the back of his sofa. Approaching the sofa, Harry could only drum up enough resolve to gape down at it. 

Harry fought to form a coherent thought through his increasing dread and desire. Didn’t he have wards on this place? How had Malfoy managed to get into his flat?

Even as these questions flitted through his mind, he recalled a bushy-haired woman shoving him out of his home that morning with a parting line of ‘ _you never know who you might meet_ …’ Harry hadn’t really registered the comment before; he had been too engrossed in the utter terror of having to attend the event alone to absorb much else at the time.

Hermione. She’d done something. He just _knew_ that she was somehow behind this. A part of him wanted to throttle his friend, but another very loudly _cheering_ part of him wanted to hug her and buy her a Mercedes or something else extravagantly expensive.

Harry continued to stare at the kilt, chewing his bottom lip as he considered his position. Apparently, if he understood the situation correctly, at this moment a very attractive man could be in his bedroom, minus at least a large part of his clothing. Weighing up the advantages of entering the room against the very tempting idea of running away or moving home, Harry quietly crept over to the door leading to the adjacent room.

Standing in front of the door to the bedroom, his heart thudded and the previous idea of fleeing was almost overwhelming. Letting the fear wash over him, Harry recognized that the act of sending Malfoy away had only made him miserable, so for his own future peace of mind, he resolved to at least find out what would happen if he allowed Malfoy access to his life, even if only for one night. The act of turning another doorknob took a surprisingly enormous resource of courage, but Harry forced his hand to obey and the door opened.

The sight that he was presented with was not entirely what he had been expecting. Malfoy wasn’t aware of his presence yet, because as far as Harry could tell, the man was sound asleep. Harry’s ex-classmate and sworn enemy lay curled on one side encased within the white cotton sheets of the bed, soft lengthy breaths hissing delicately through his nostrils. 

Harry’s jaw almost hit the floor. This was _not_ how this was supposed to go. He had imagined that if anyone would go to the considerable bother of breaking into someone’s home for sex that they would at least ensure that they were awake to participate in it.

Hovering in the doorway, Harry was more than slightly unsure of the appropriate action to be taken. Remaining in that location for a while, he threaded the soft fur of the sporran absently between his fingers and admired the way that silvery blond hair splayed over the pillow. He was entranced by the smooth curve of neck and shoulder and the slope of taut back which disappeared under the sheet. Malfoy’s arm was curled protectively over his chest. 

Observing that Malfoy was lying at the right-hand side of the bed facing the edge, with an inviting expanse of mattress behind him, a plan of action slowly formed.

Very quietly, Harry removed his clothes, placing them in a pile on the floor. He used his shirt to mostly dry his hair and then tiptoed silently to the edge of the bed, still caressing the soft fur. Peeling the sheet off to completely expose the naked man, he edged himself carefully onto the mattress and slid over to lie on his side only a few short inches from touching Malfoy’s pale skin.

Revelling in his new-found bravery, Harry reached out the hand holding the sporran and glided the silky fur up the side of Malfoy’s thigh, over his hip and across his back. Malfoy didn’t stir. A little disappointed, but not deterred, Harry slid the sporran back over the slim hip to Malfoy’s front and let the fur tickle over the resting penis.

Malfoy shifted slightly in his sleep. Encouraged, Harry stroked the fur back and forth along the length, thrilled at the results as Malfoy’s cock slowly began to harden. Malfoy stirred and a barely audible moan escaped his parted lips. Harry’s stroking became more insistent until he was rewarded for his efforts by an impressively hard erection jutting out from a nest of curls. 

Harry leaned into an elegantly curved ear and whispered, "Malfoy."

"Hmmm…?"

"Time to wake up." Harry’s stroking continued without pause. Malfoy squirmed against the pelt.

"Mmmm…"

"Malfoy, wake up."

"I… Potter?"

"Don’t move." Harry pressed the line of his body against Malfoy’s and his own erection slid in to cradle between supple arse cheeks.

"Potter…" he could sense by the tone that Malfoy was gradually reaching full awareness.

"Do you want to feel my cock inside you?" Harry whispered, still stroking up and down the length of the shaft. 

"It’ll be... other way ‘round..." Malfoy mumbled sleepily.

"You're in my house now and we’ll do what _I_ want."

"Get that thing away from me." _Definitely_ fully awake now.

"No. I like it. And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have left it in such a prominent spot."

"I just wanted to let you know that I was in here."

"I’m sure you did…"

Despite his protests, Malfoy’s hips started to move against Harry’s strokes.

"Potter -"

"Lie still. Close your eyes."

Harry was somewhat surprised when Malfoy obeyed. Malfoy lay perfectly still as Harry continued his furry caresses, but Harry heard panting breaths deepen with every pass. Harry sped up the strokes and Malfoy positively _squirmed_ with arousal.

Eventually, when Malfoy’s breathing indicated nothing short of a slow, erotic torture, Harry whispered again, "It’s time. Now I want to hear you say _my_ name as _you_ come."

Malfoy seemed as happy to indulge the request as Harry had been back on the bench. Growling out a low, "Harry…" he writhed beautifully and climaxed onto the sheet.

Painfully aware of how hard he was, Harry tossed the sporran off to the side and flipped Malfoy onto his stomach. Realising that the best chance of continued success lay in acting quickly before Malfoy recovered enough to protest or instil any further doubt in his mind, Harry sat up and positioned himself between long, toned legs. But he couldn’t resist sitting back on his heels for just a few moments to admire the flawless skin.

"What the fuck was _that_?" Malfoy gasped.

Malfoy was clearly returning from his orgasm-induced tranquillity. "I thought it was you being stroked off by a sporran. I could be wrong," Harry teased as he bent to kiss a firm buttock.

"I was beginning to think you weren’t coming home," Malfoy mumbled against the pillow.

"How long have you been here?"

"Mmm…" hummed Malfoy as Harry licked the smooth cheek. "Since about an hour after you blew me off…"

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked, although he was almost sure he knew who had been behind this.

"Granger let me in. Apparently, you have a chink in your wards in the shape of a know-it-all brunette."

Harry thought he’d leave worrying about the state of his wards for a time when he didn’t have a mouthful of buttocks. "Why?"

"Because she’s a meddling little – _watch_ it, Potter!" Harry had cut off the end of that sentence with a sharp nip of his teeth.

"Try to tell me without insulting any of my friends. How did Hermione even know that I might want you in here?"

"She accosted me outside my house. The nosy… _woman_ … seemed to think that I shouldn’t have come home alone, but as I believe I explained to her, it wasn’t my decision."

Harry was still trying to make sense of all this, in between amusing himself playing with his new Malfoy arse-toy.

He licked a long trail up the slope. "Why would she be at your house?"

"Well, I suppose she saw me through her window or something…"

"Through her window?" Lick.

"Yes. I do live next door to her, after all."

Harry stopped licking. "What?"

Malfoy wriggled his bum in an obvious effort to regain the attention of Harry’s tongue.

"You… live next door to Hermione?"

"Didn’t you know that?"

"No, I didn’t." Making a mental note to reprimand Hermione for being secretive before he bought her the Mercedes, Harry slid his tongue down Malfoy’s crack. This earned him a very arousing whimper. 

Deliciously erotic though this arse tasted, Harry really didn’t want to wait any longer to allow Malfoy to think better of the position, so he moved his face away. 

"Did you think to bring lube with you when you were planning this little surprise, or was the plan all along just to get a good night’s sleep?"

"You didn’t exactly rush back and I’d had a bit to drink…"

"Feeling a bit more alert now, I hope. _Lube_ , Malfoy?" 

"Under the pillow…"

"Very handy." Harry smiled as his hand explored underneath the pillow upon which Malfoy’s head rested. His fingers came back with a tube of lubricant that he wasted no further time in utilising. Coating his fingers and palm with the oily mixture, Harry took a chance and pushed in three fingers at once. The long, loud groan he was rewarded with indicated no protest.

Chuckling, Harry placed one hand on the small of Malfoy’s smooth back while the other occupied itself with slackening the muscles of Malfoy’s anus.

When Harry once again had a sufficiently squirming, panting Malfoy at his disposal, he pressed his cock inwards.

Harry matched Malfoy’s returning groan as he glided in, the noise continuing as he immediately began to withdraw.

Malfoy gripped the pillow beneath him and squealed when Harry hit his prostate. The sensation of being in complete control overtook Harry and he grasped Malfoy’s wrists roughly as he pounded. The smell of vanilla scented hair drifted up to him as he thrust; Malfoy’s back arching encouragingly under him.

Sweat soon dripped from Harry's nose with the sheer effort he was exerting. Malfoy rutted against the mattress in time to the thrusts, and the whimper of what was unmistakably another orgasm soon reverberated from Malfoy's lips. Restrained by both Harry’s hands and weight, Malfoy was still unable to move as Harry’s onslaught reached its crescendo with a resounding yell. 

The intensity of the orgasm which Harry achieved overshadowed even the earlier one he had experienced that evening. 

Harry rolled off Malfoy’s back to bounce down onto the mattress, heaving in gulping breaths of air. Once his heartbeat had slowed to a less deafening thump, Harry turned his head to survey the man he was lying next to, who seemed to be regarding him back with searching eyes.

All at once, the previous doubt thudded back into Harry's soul. His heart rate increased again with growing fear of the situation he had placed himself in. 

“What’s wrong?” Malfoy asked from beside him.

The lack of mocking sarcasm in that question only served to confuse Harry even further. A gentle hand glided down his side and he flinched. 

"Why did you come here?" Harry spat, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Wasn’t that obvious?" Malfoy asked.

"So, all you wanted was sex?"

"Should I have expected anything more?" 

"No, I suppose not." That flash of something unreadable flickered again for a second in Malfoy’s eyes, before vanishing just as quickly. 

"Do you want me to go?" Again, the absence of derision in Malfoy’s tone puzzled Harry.

"I… think you should."

Malfoy’s gaze dropped down to the sliver of mattress between them and hung for an eternal moment before he rose silently from the bed. Harry didn’t understand how, in the short space of a day, he had been reduced to this utter bewilderment. Now the thought both of Malfoy leaving _or_ staying seemed to be causing him equal distress. Harry had always been so careful throughout his life not to sleep with anyone he didn’t trust, and he had never before been so aggressive in a sexual encounter. 

Harry lay where he was, listening to the sounds of Malfoy gathering his things. He didn’t even move when he heard his front door slam. 

****

He wasn’t aware of how long he had lain there before the ring of his doorbell chimed through the flat. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore it, but the intermittent rings soon became one long, insistent tone.

Reluctantly, Harry stood, fished a robe from within his wardrobe and shuffled slowly to the door, thinking that it was most likely to be Hermione coming to berate him for being such an idiot.

But it wasn’t who he had been expecting. A somewhat dishevelled tartan-clad Malfoy stood in his doorway, thumb turning white as it pressed firmly down onto the bell. The thumb was snatched back as Harry stood, frowning in incomprehension.

Malfoy’s expression was alarmingly open. "Do you really want me to leave?"

This was the resounding moment of truth, Harry realised through the rushing in his ears.

"No," he admitted. "Not really. But I’m… not sure whether I should let you stay."

"It’s up to you," Malfoy said a little too quietly. Harry wondered if the hopeful expression staring back at him was genuine.

"Do… you _want_ to stay?"

Malfoy’s eyebrow hitched upwards. "No, I just liked the sound of your doorbell."

" _Why_ do you want to stay?"

"I’m - I just thought it might be pleasant to…" Malfoy wasn’t meeting Harry’s eyes anymore, "…lie together for a while."

The sudden and unusual lack of confidence emanating from his former enemy instilled doubt of a different kind in Harry. Maybe he had been wrong to presume so much about this man.

"Okay," Harry whispered and took a step away from the doorway to let Malfoy enter his life, even if it might be for just one night.


End file.
